Thankful
by DCKidWing13
Summary: A Thanksgiving story about our favorite Batboys taking place through the years. Rated K plus for language from our two little potty mouths.


**Thankful**

AGE 6:

"Okay, everyone. Thanksgiving is coming soon. Today, we are going to write what we are thankful for. To be thankful is to be very glad you have it. I don't mean things like toys or games. I mean things like your brother's smile or your family. So let's get started. Everyone get a crayon and some colored paper. I will help you if you need it."

He went to his cubby and pulled out a black crayon and some regular white paper. He wasn't into color very much but he knew black wouldn't show on black paper. He sat down away from the other children in first grade; they were annoying. After thinking for a moment, he wrote:

"i am tancfull 4 my mommy and my daddy and my buttlur Alffedd. i luve them so mush. i am so hapie i half them."

"Why, Bruce! This so nice! You did a very good job."

AGE 9:

"All right. I'm sure you all have done this many times before, but it's an elementary school tradition. As you all know, Thanksgiving is on Thursday. We are to write down what we're thankful for today and give it to our parents to see on Thursday. Sound good? Now if you will all get out something to write with and some paper to begin."

As he did every year, young Bruce got his supplies and sat away from the other kids; he didn't want friends. Immediately, he started to write:

"What do I have to be thankful for? My parents are dead! I let them die last year in a dirty ally. I don't have anything to be thankful for. What does anyone have to be thankful for? People suck. They don't deserve to be so happy when I can't. Why do I have to be so miserable? Why can't I have something to be thankful for? Why can't I spend Thanksgiving with the people I love? Why do I have to be in pain? Well I'm never going to love anyone else ever again! I'll never be hurt like that ever again."

Tears streamed down the young boy's cheeks as he ripped and crumpled the paper until it was in too many small pieces to abuse. Then he hid the pieces in his pocket and sat alone until the rest of the class was done.

AGE 29:

"So, Dick, have you been having fun at school. Usually there's a lot of fuss around the holidays." The young boy, now grown and taking care of another young boy was trying desperately to just talk with the kid. He'd barely said much of anything since he's first arrived at the Manor.

Dick shrugged. "I guess." It was said in such a small voice, but at least it was _said_. Sadness showed heavily in his blue eyes. Bruce felt a deep ache in his heart and tried not to look at those broken portals to the acrobat's beaten soul.

"…Well…uh…When I was in school, we always wrote thankful letters saying what things we were thankful for." As soon as he'd said it, he had immediately regretted it.

"**What the HECK do **_**I**_** have to be **_**THANKFUL**_** for?!**" Dick shouted and his eyes flashed anger and sadness and Bruce just couldn't look away no matter how much it hurt to look at them. All of a sudden, everything in Dick's eyes had been flushed out by tears and he ran away to his new room to cry it all out.

Bruce had contemplated going upstairs to talk to Dick, but figured it would be best to let the boy mourn for a while before he was thrust back into this new world. So he went down to the 'Cave as a way to not _think_ about his own parents. It didn't work.

AGE 35:

"So, Bruce, you know you're going to get me a new bike for Christmas, right?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow and looked over to his ward who was smirking back to him. "Oh?"

"Yeah." The teen laid back a bit and kept smirking.

"And what makes you think I'm going to."

"'Cause you are."

"Right." Bruce playfully rolled his eyes and got a stuck-out tongue in response.

"You're going to get me a new bike because I want one and I've been good this year."

He raised his eyebrow again. "Good?"

"Mm…For the most part."

"We'll see, Dick."

"Hm." Dick gave a triumphant grin and walk over to Bruce, wrapping his arms around his mentor's broad neck. Suddenly, Dick's playful self was gone and it was replaced be complete seriousness. He sighed and whispered in Bruce's ear, "I know what I have to be thankful for this year." He planted a small kiss on Bruce's temple and squeezed his neck harder. After a few more minutes in silence, Dick let go and went to go see what kind of pie Alfred was making.

AGE 39:

"Sir, I really don't think that it is a good idea for you to leave for your trip _this_ Wednesday."

"Well, I can't wait until _next_ week, Alfred. It'll be too late."

"But, sir-"

"Alfred! I'm going on this trip today and that's final!"

"…Yes, Sir. Is there anything else you may need?" Bruce shook his head and the elderly man walked out, annoyance clear in his features.

"Jason!" Bruce yelled. He had called him down over ten minutes ago. That boy would just not follow orders. Bruce walked to Jason's room and didn't bother to knock before entering.

"Hey! Get out of my room!"

"I called you down nearly twenty minutes ago." Jason shrugged. "Jason…" Bruce was warning him, but he didn't care.

"That's my name." Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples. "Why don't you just head off on your stupid trip?"

"This trip is not "stupid", Jason. It helps settle things for the _both_ of us. You should be thankful-"

"**THANKFUL?! Why the **_**HELL**_** should I be **_**thankful**_** for shit**? You don't care! That's why you're leaving. Well, guess what? I don't need to be thankful for shit! And I don't give a **fuck** for any of this _fake_ caring shit! **Thankful my ASS**! Now get the hell out of my fucking room, you bastard!"

Bruce's eyes were wide. It wasn't Jason's foul language that surprised him; Jason always swore. It was the hint of hurt in his eyes when he said it. Maybe Alfred was right. You can't leave your son alone on Thanksgiving. Even if Alfred _was_ there.

"Why the **fuck** are you still **standing** there!?"

"…I'm not leaving you, Jason. Not on Thanksgiving. Not on a _family_ holiday."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Bruce went over to the intercom that Jason had disconnected-again. He quickly fixed it and said into it, "Alfred. Cancel my flight."

AGE 42:

"So, do you do anything special for Thanksgiving? Or is it just another day to you?"

"Well, Alfred always makes an extraordinary meal each year. And Dick may or may not come. Do you, Timothy?"

"Not really. I mean, we celebrate and stuff, but it's not a big thing."

"Hm." Bruce nodded slowly. "…Are you…thankful, Tim?"

"What? Yeah, I'm thankful. Are you?" The question had completely taken the boy by surprise and he wasn't _quite_ sure what Bruce had meant.

"I…uh… It's good you have something to be thankful for."

"Um…yeah, I guess." There was an awkward silence for a few minutes. "So, did Dick say if he was going to come or not."

"No, I haven't heard from him. But it would be good if he does."

"Um, yeah. I've got to get home now."

"Tim. Be sure to tell your father how thankful you are for him before you're unable to."

"Yes Sir."

AGE 44:

"Come on, Dami. You have to be thankful for _something_."

"**I** don't _need_ to be _thankful_ for **anything**, Grayson."

"But you have to be, everyone is."

"Can we go kick some criminal ass already?" The newest Robin was getting annoyed by Grayson's foolish belief that "everyone has _something_ to be thankful for".

"No. Not until you tell me what you're thankful for."

"Don't be a baby about it, Grayson."

"Just tell me, Little D. Then we can go out on patrol."

"Fine. I am fortunate to have… uh… a Twitter page, okay? Now let's go." Damian tried to walk towards the car, but was stopped by Dick whose hand had found its way to his little "brother's" arm.

"No, Little D."

"Grayson, unhand me at once!" He did.

"Damian, I mean something _meaningful_."

"Twitter **is** meaningful."

Dick sighed. "I mean something that's important. Something that isn't materialistic. Something that means something to you. A lot of people would say their family or friends. Come on, Damian. Name something. Please?"

Damian growled but knew Grayson wouldn't give up with this sort of ridiculous thing. So he reluctantly didn't roundhouse kick Dick and steal the Batmobile for a joyride. "Fine." It was said through gritted teeth and Dick couldn't help but think of how much his little brother resembled a younger Bruce. "I'm fortunate to…" He thought for a moment. "…To be the future Batman."

Dick was about to say something when Damian cut him off. "I'm the son of the Batman. I'm perfect."

"So are you 'fortunate' to become Batman or to be Bruce's son?"

"I'm a Bat, Grayson. What more is there to be thankful for? Let's leave already." Damian climbed into the Batmobile and Dick followed after. It wasn't until after patrol when Dick was saying 'Goodnight' to Damian that it came to Dick what Damian _really_ meant: "I am thankful to be in this family."

With a small smile, Dick leaned over and kissed his little brother's forehead. Damian groaned and rubbed frantically at his head and all around his face. "I'm thankful to be in your family, too, Teddy Bear."

AGE 45:

"Dick, was this all really necessary?"

Dick acted confused. "What? You think _I_ arranged all this?"

"With help."

Dick smiled his mischievous smile. Yes, he did do it, but he had a good reason. It was Bruce's first Thanksgiving back since he disappeared. Dick wanted to make it a nice one. And by that, of course, he had decorated the whole mansion with childish Thanksgiving themed decorations and such. He did pretty much all he had to make Bruce get a headache from the second he left his room. Music (annoying), fall colors (painful to look at), and all the Batboys together (**dangerous**).

"Whatever. I'm only here because Goldie threatened me and promised food and booze. So where's the booze?"

"That's not until later. _After_ the party." He groaned. "Cheer up, Jay. This'll be fun."

"Fun? Nothing G-rated is ever fun."

"Sure it is. Right, Tim?"

"-you little demon brat- what's that, Dick?"

"Stop fighting with Damian." Tim groaned. "And Damian, stop being so mean." Damian snarled. "And Bruce, get up and live a little already, will you?" Bruce groaned. But they all obeyed anyway-for a few minutes, at least.

"Okay, Goldie, you promised entertainment. So entertain me."

"Uh…why don't we play some board games?"

"Because they're boring." Damian said, rolling his eyes.

"Come on, let's play…" Dick searched through a few games until he found one and lifted it up. "Sc-"

"I am NOT playing Scrabble with YOU or Bruce, got it?"

"'Cause you know you'd lose." Tim snickered and got punched in the arm.

"Well then…how about Taboo?"

The other Batboys looked at each other for a moment. "Fine." They said in a monotone unison.

"Sweet! Bruce, Alfred, don't think you two are getting out of this one."

The two elders look at each other with small smiles on their faces. "We'll be there in a minute, Dick."

"I trust that you want to ensure no repeats in the years to follow."

"Naw, don't worry about it Alfred."

"And why is that, Master Bruce?"

Bruce gave a small smile as he watched his four sons bicker over who was going to be on whose team. "Because I know what I have to be thankful for this year."

"Come on, Alfred and Old Man. We're about to start."

The two walked towards the others. "And it's enough." Bruce said before looking over the rules his sons _insisted_ he didn't need to read. _'Cheaters'_ he thought. _'__**My **__cheaters'._


End file.
